me from political headquarters. I was afraid to
tell the truth at the police station."

"You mean you have been so crooked for years that you're afraid of
everybody who has a little influence," Farland told him.

"I thought it was orders, sir, from somebody who had better be obeyed."

"Oh, I understand, all right. Well, I scarcely think it was politics.
You've been played, that's all. Get me that letter!"

"Yes, sir."

The merchant got it and handed it over, together with the envelope. He
had told the truth. The letter was typewritten on an ordinary piece of
paper, and the envelope was of the sort anybody could purchase at a
corner drug store. Farland put the letter in his pocket.

"Here between ten thirty and a quarter of eleven, was he?"

"Yes, sir," said the merchant.

"All right! You remember that, and don't change your mind again, if you
know what is good for you. You'll hear from me in the morning. That's
all!"

Jim Farland went from the store with a grinning Murk at his heels,
leaving a badly frightened small merchant behind him.

"I know that bird," he told Murk. "He's a fence, or I miss my guess.
It's no job at all to run a bluff on a small-time crook like that. And
now we'll run down and see that barber."

They engaged another taxicab and made a trip. Once more Murk remained
outside, and Jim Farland entered and beckoned the barber to him.

"Step outside the door where nobody will overhear," he said. "I want to
ask you something."

The barber stepped outside, wondering what was coming. This man knew Jim
Farland, too, and he knew that a call from him might mean trouble.

"Trying to see how far you can go and keep out of jail?" Farland
demanded.

"I--I don't know what you mean, sir."

"Trying to run a bluff on me? On me?" Farland gasped. "You'd better talk
straight. Do you expect to run a barber shop by day and a gambling joint
by night all your life?"

"Why, I----"

"Don't lie!" Farland interrupted. "I know all about that little back
room. Maybe I'm not on the city police force now, but you know me! I've
got a bunch of friends on the force, and if I told a certain sergeant
about your little game and said that I wanted to have you run in he
wouldn't hesitate a minute."

"But what have I done, Mr. Farland?" the barber gasped. "I've always
been friendly to you."

"I know it. But are you going to keep right on being friendly?"

"Of course, sir."

"Willing to help me out in a little matte